by Birdie Jaworski

A practice room at NMHU reverberates with the Brazilian beat of a drum set, its tone reminiscent of a steel drum band, of nights spent in tango with handsome strangers under island stars. A singer’s voice pierces the rhythm, clear and low, a lone tarnished flute mimicking her vibrato in a sultry call and response. Five musicians breathe …

Historic Building and Homes Tourby Birdie Jaworski
A stately stone building sits sentry at the Bridge Street entrance to the Las Vegas Plaza, its expertly renovated rough-hewn exterior a study in late 19th Century architecture. Now the administrative home of the West Las Vegas School District, the two-story building looks elegant, composed, serene. It wasn’t always so self-possessed, however. Like many …

by Birdie JaworskiJames sat on the edge of the Sea of Galilee. The water shimmered, its choppy surface echoing the deep azure of Israel’s morning sky. He held a fishing net in his hands, his fingers carefully darning small holes ripped by the tides. His brother and father sat near him, and as they worked, they noticed a peaceful man …

by Birdie Jaworski
A man with a thick drooping mustache barreled into Las Vegas. He bellied up to the Plaza Hotel saloon bar, scores of his rowdy companions drowning their seat-saddle pain with shots of cheap whiskey. Teddy Roosevelt didn’t ride a Harley, but only because they hadn’t been invented yet. This weekend, the third annual Rough Rider Motorcycle Rally coaxes …

by Birdie Jaworski

A ring of wind-scarred red clay barracks once bustled with ordered activity. Wagon trains carting ammunition, grains, the thimble and shine that makes a soldier’s life bearable, rolled off the Santa Fe trail, dusty from the long journey from Fort Leavenworth and St. Louis. Men in deep blue uniforms off-loaded precious cargo, storing it in the heavily patrolled …

by Birdie Jaworski

The Immaculate Heart of Mary bursts into leaping orange flame next to the sword-pierced heart of her resurrected Son. A twisted ring of thorns presses into Mary’s flesh, transmitting the pain a Mother breathes for her child. Jesus’ heart stands behind His mother, a silent sentry promising rest. The icons hover in the center of a delicate tangerine …

Three Guitarists Perform at Kennedy Hallby Birdie Jaworski
Daniel Weston sat in a Santa Fe instrument dealer’s shop and cradled a guitar in his lap. The guitar’s soft curves and rich lustre spoke of the maker’s exquisite care, of a life born into the studied lineage of a lutier. Paulino Bernabe, the guitar-maker, once said that he looked for the most …